Suddenly
by Shade Embry
Summary: What Martin must have been going through leaving everything behind. Songfic.


Fanfic » TV Shows » Without A Trace » **Suddenly**

By Brittany "Thespis" Frederick

**Suddenly**  
  
Author: Brittany "Thespis" Frederick

Rating: PG

Summary: What Martin must have been going through leaving everything behind. A songfiction set to the title song by LeAnn Rimes.

Spoilers: Pilot

Disclaimer: _Without A Trace_ is not mine. It's the property of CBS and its production company and creators and so forth. However, this fic and all original content in it IS mine, and if you wish to repost it, please let me know at AgentThespis@msn.com, and I'll gladly let you. I also want to thank the phenomenal team at _WTA_, especially the delightful Eric Close, for a show that got me hooked from day one. And thanks to LeAnn Rimes for a song that I knew fit this idea as soon as I heard it.

He hauled the last of his suitcases into the living room and set it down with a loud sound, turning to take one last look back at everything. Two suitcases and a carryon would be coming with him; everything else would be shipped over within days of his touchdown in New York. This left the walls bare, the shelves empty, as if he had never been. It gave him a helpless feeling, something he didn't quite know what to do with. He'd felt it before, and he knew he couldn't judge what he thought about the changes until they came, as one was coming now.

Martin let his eyes wander over the Seattle apartment he'd made his own over the last two years. Flashed back to when it had been bare before, when he was moving into it after leaving Orlando like he was leaving it now. His father had insisted he go cross-country for his first tour of duty, to get as far away as he could, and he had gone, finding that his father's advice had been good advice. Then it had been back here, back home, when the opening had come up and, in the same breath, so had his name. Now only New York lay before him. All the moving, all the permanence he couldn't share in.

He stared for a second, taking a mental Polaroid, before he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, grabbed the two rolling suitcases, and set out down the hallway, hearing the door click shut behind him. Again.

_i It's independence day, I'm free_

_And it's a strange place to be_

_I'm gonna break these chains_

_Unleash the changes in me /i_

There were two hours before the flight departed, leaving Martin plenty of time to check in, get coffee, and once again wage the battle between his personal attachment to the life he was trying to live and the life that he was ending up living. It did wonders for his self-consciousness. Two moves in three years, and that was if you didn't count the National Academy. His brain played with the statistic while he sat at his gate, watching planes land and ascend, the ambient noise all around him as he wondered if he was really doing the right thing.

Everyone had insecurities about their lives. He knew that from common sense, not to mention the psychology classes. But he felt needled. He hadn't seen himself staying in Orlando, with the heat and the humidity and the basicness he felt there outside of the company of his now-ex-girlfriend. But he'd still been forced to leave it before his time, knowing the opportunity for a solid position in Seattle, from which his career could be launched, was a small window he could not afford to miss. Manhattan had personal reasons attached, but it was still somewhat of a force out, career over all else. It was still being torn away from a place he knew in the name of something higher.

The words his ex had said when he had told her he was leaving Orlando to go back home rang in his mind: "You do what you have to do." Simple, no hesitation – she was telling him to follow himself. But was he following himself or just the internal ladder, the drive within him to get somewhere? Did he even know where somewhere was? He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He made things a lot more difficult than they had to be.

Outside another plane landed, carrying another few hundred people coming home. Martin turned his gaze to the hazy sky, knowing he wouldn't be among them anytime soon. Resolution mixed with uncertainty tinged with duty and mingling with sadness hit him with each heartbeat.

_i I see an endless road_

_I feel the restless wind_

_I've lost the fear inside_

_'Cause I've got no choice but to live or die /i_

Once the plane was in the air time seemed to slow, if not suspend, as if there were any way to possibly drag this out any longer than he was already making it. Martin was glad he wasn't in a window seat. He didn't want to see Seattle fade out from below him, giving him some image to remember in Manhattan. He wanted to remember it for what he knew– that apartment, his friends, his family, not some landscape fading into the early-morning mist. That seemed an injustice to the place where he'd been born and raised. To forget where he had been was to forget who he was.

Yet he couldn't dwell on this forever. He'd fought hard to get the job in Manhattan, to keep his father's shadow from overtaking this part of his life as it had most of the rest of it. He needed to walk in there not bound to anything but his duty and his boss. Jack Malone was not the type of man who'd let him play distracted. What he did on his own time was his own business, but he had to get it together before he ended up costing himself an opportunity he sorely wanted and needed. He had known this price came with it. But now that it was happening, the direness of the deal seemed right there in front of him. He couldn't change it now.

There was a Peter Gabriel channel on the headphones, and he punched it up and listened. He couldn't even identify the song; he wasn't really paying attention. Nonetheless, it reminded him of the Gabriel CD packed in his luggage, and Peter was able to lull him into a state of mind where everything could be all right, as long as he believed it was possible. He wondered how much convincing he'd need to believe.

_i Suddenly you're in this fight alone_

_  
Stepping out into the great unknown_

_  
And the night's the hardest time_

_When the doubts run through your mind_

_'Cause suddenly you find yourself alone_

_And suddenly you find yourself /i_

He slept on the airplane, better than he had in the days leading up to this. What bothered him the most, he realized in that punctuated state between dreaming and consciousness, was the people he'd been forced to leave behind by each turn in the road. It had been hard enough leaving his friends and family the first time. Then in Orlando, he had left Trish, right when he was starting to make her trust herself, right when he could admit that he honestly needed her. And now, he was leaving his friends and family again. They had been stunned at how much he had changed since they'd bid him goodbye en route to the National Academy; how would they react in two more years' time? What kind of person might he be then? Martin wasn't ready to think about that, not yet. Maybe later, when he'd gotten semi-settled and less uncomfortable, but not now. 

The starter material faxed over by Malone was in his carryon, under his seat, waiting for him, prepared in a carefully organized binder, sorted, filed, regimental. Martin knew life wasn't like that, and although he knew he should be reading up for the fourth time, didn't want to do it yet. He didn't want to read about the urgency and devastation of someone gone missing when he felt like he was a little bit missing himself.

Was that how it was, in a metaphorical sense? Had Martin Fitzgerald really not gotten on the plane hours ago? Was he still back in Seattle, although part of him was occupying a business class airplane chair listening to familiar music he had often played around the apartment? Would some part of him always be back in his home state, home city? He assumed that to be the way it was; at least, he didn't know any other way. Not yet.

_i In an empty room_

_With a suitcase on the floor_

_It'll be daylight soon_

_I'm gonna wage my private war /i_

JFK International Airport was the next thing to greet Martin's weary eyes and shaken perception. He had every intent of going straight to baggage claim and picking up his luggage, then his rental car – until his own arrived – and going to the apartment that the Bureau had taken out for him, the one just vacated by another agent in an agent-for-agent swap sending another man to San Francisco. The arrangements had all been made well in advance, and he was going strictly according to plan, at least where his head was concerned.

Outside the gate, he froze up without thinking about it. Fireworks were going off in the distance outside the expansive windows. The night sky had long since fallen, leaving explosions of light silhouetted against black. Martin froze and examined the terminal, the fireworks, the few people around at this hour. This was to be his home now, and the hard evidence was just now in front of him. It was nothing like Seattle. It was nothing like Orlando. And he'd have to get used to it.

As an explosion of blue reflected off the planes of his face, Martin made a truce with himself and did the only thing he could: drop his shoulder and carry on, in hopes that tomorrow would be better than today, and allow him to make peace with the one that had come before.

_i Who's watching over me?_

_  
Must be a guardian angel_

_I just need time to breathe_

_And give my life the best of me /i_

Down in baggage claim, his sharp vision was rested like a hawk on the circuitous carousel, waiting for his luggage. Martin reached under his sweatshirt, pulled his cell phone from its case, and dialed by memory.

The first call was a short message to the voice mail of Jack Malone, letting him know that he had safely arrived and to expect him at the office promptly the coming morning.

The second call was to his father, a reprise minus the office reminder, adding his love to the family. 

He snapped the phone shut and stared at it for a second, then put it back in its case, taking hold of his luggage and moving on. The longer he waited, the more thinking he'd do, and while he had graduated with honors and was a very smart man, thinking tonight was probably not the smartest course of action, tongue firmly in cheek.

_i Suddenly you're in this fight alone_

_  
Stepping out into the great unknown_

_  
And the night's the hardest time_

_When the doubts run through your mind_

_'Cause suddenly you find yourself alone_

_And suddenly you find yourself /i_

The directions were pristine, and Martin had them resting on the dashboard while he drove the rental Lexus from the airport according to their bullet points. He wasn't a complete rookie to the city, unlike the agent going to California; he'd read up thoroughly, and once had a stopover in the city for a few hours on a family vacation to Maine. Still, it didn't feel right, like an uneasy shroud settling on his shoulders. He was not thrilled. He expected better of himself, even though he didn't really have a right to.

He parked the car, picked up the keys to the apartment from the night manager of the building in the office. It was on the third floor, one lower than his previous apartment had been. Standing at the door, Martin took a deep breath. He had everything to give and nothing left to lose. With a sudden burst of resolve, he put the key in the lock and turned, walking over the threshold of one door and something else all at once.

It was different, yet fundamentally the same, from his home – his _former_ home now – in Seattle. Living room right in the door. Bedroom around the corner, bathroom adjoining that. Plenty of open space, and a kitchen small enough to avoid intrusion but big enough to allow him enough space for cooking. Most of all, what he noticed was the bareness. He'd have to do something to fix that.

_i Suddenly you're in this fight_

_Stepping out and then /i_

He deposited his luggage by the foot of the bed in the other room, dropping the carryon right on the bed. Most of the things stayed packed except for the change of clothes therein, a few personal effects that ended up on the dresser or the nightstand, his laptop and the paperwork he needed to go over again. The latter two came back with him to the living room, where he set them both on the coffee table, firing up the computer for what promised to be a short night's work. No sense in sleeping with it being so late, as if he would anyway. A list began forming in his head of requirements for his lunch break or after work: restocking the fridge, unpacking, taking inventory. Trying to make the place feel like home.

Martin folded the sweatshirt neatly over the back of the couch and turned on the air conditioner to cool down the room that reminded him ever briefly of Orlando with its night humidity. Just as he sat down in front of his laptop and flipped on ESPN with the sound muted to get Mariners highlights for tradition's rather than loyalty's sake, there was a ringing tone. It took him a second to figure out that it was his cell phone, not the phone on the kitchen counter that he'd have to move to the bedroom, that was beckoning him at two in the morning.

_i Suddenly you're in this fight alone_

_  
Stepping out into the great unknown_

_  
And the night's the hardest time_

_When the doubts run through your mind_

_'Cause suddenly you find yourself alone_

_You find yourself alone /i_

"Fitzgerald."

"Martin, it's Jack Malone. Good to see you made it."

"Thank you." Martin arched an eyebrow: Malone was still at the office? "You didn't have to call me back at this hour."

"Don't worry about it. I'm still at the office, just got your message. Listen, if you want to take tomorrow off, take it. You've only got seven hours and you just flew cross country. I won't hold it against you if you want the extra day."

Launching his Internet connection, Martin shifted the phone to his shoulder, looking at the binder next to the sleek silver laptop. He was able to answer quickly and without hesitation. "I don't need it."

"You're sure?" Malone's skepticism was detectable.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." As the modem dialed, Martin paged the binder and leaned back into the leather couch. If he had more free time on his hands, he'd spend it overthinking again, trying to get acclimated when the only thing that could really get him acclimated was his work. His work was pretty much everything to him, but he was sure Malone knew that already. "I'll be okay," he repeated for emphasis.

"All right." His boss didn't sound too moved either direction. "I'll see you in seven hours then. You have the directions?"

"Yeah. I'll see you then." He hung up at the same time Malone did, restowed the phone, and put the binder back down – still open to the introduction page – as he leaned over to work with his computer. Notifying everyone of his change of address and phone number would take a little while. At least his e-mail remained the same.

He hesitated a second, then went back to typing.

It had been the right call. As changes went, he expected this moment of confidence in the future to be the first of many.

_i And the night's the hardest time_

_When the doubts run through your mind_

_'Cause suddenly you find yourself alone_

_Suddenly I found myself… /i_


End file.
